Badges, Guns, and Shoes

I was home Friday evening watching the news when a knock came at my door. When I opened it, a man flashed a police badge in my face, and his partner held a gun pointed at the ceiling. They both advised me to leave the apartment building NOW. I remembered to lock the door but forgot my shoes, and went out into the parking lot where my next door neighbor (who had been subjected to the same treatment) and I speculated on the doings of the man next door.

I won't go further into details. But I live in an extremely quiet building. And I have lived a pretty uneventful life, as far as weapons and the law go. Needless to say, it left an impression on me.

So of course I tried to write something touching on the incident in some manner. The names (and storyline) have been changed to protect the innocent or guilty.

Incident at Sunset Arms

The door revealed a badge
and close at hand a gun.
Tim couldn’t tell apart
the voices in unison
whispering disappear—
they sounded doctrinaire
in their suggestion so
he made the parking lot
his sanctuary. Then
he waited for the shot
that never came. His shoes
lurked in the house, the news
engulfed the TV screen,
and night was sealing fast.
He knew his neighbor well
enough to grasp he’d last
the nightfall in a draw—
Kurt kept his own damned law
in Nam and damned if not
the same back in the states.
Not Tim—he never dreamt to.
(And now participates
as close as he would care.)
They never had a prayer.

Gregory Perry 2004

This is a first draft and remains rough at the edges, Whether it will remain so, I don't know. But I'll provide a link here that will lead to the latest revision for posterity's sake.

LATER: Note: this is a revision posted later, the earlier draft is here now.